


Revived and Turned

by tb_ll57



Series: Nor Perish and Decay [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Background Slash, Gap Filler, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2121522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tb_ll57/pseuds/tb_ll57





	Revived and Turned

Shelley tossed his bag before him and slumped awkwardly into the foyer. 'Where’s that hag you call a wife?' Byron demanded, kicking the bag toward the butler.

Shelley grimaced and waved to the courtyard. 'With her suitor,' he answered snidely.

'Suitor?' Byron whirled to peer out toward the carriage. Yes, there was another man, someone tall and dark-headed, helping Mary down the steps with exaggerated care. As they neared the house, a wave of ear-ringing bell echoes swept Byron—- the man was Immortal.

'A doctor,' Shelley was whining. 'Adams something. He met her at a dinner party and he’s been calling all week.'

'Then by all means give him the woman and be free of her,' Byron answered absently.

'George!'

'Oh, do shut up, there’s a good man.' It was hard to concentrate on anything but the approaching Immortal. The other man had sensed Byron, as well, and was searching furtively; their eyes met, Byron’s challenging, the doctor’s curious. Easy mark, the poet thought.

 

**

 

Byron was not a man who was notable for his forbearance. Shelley spent half of dinner mooning over his fragile new wife and all of pudding and coffee glaring at Doctor Adams. Byron was also not a particularly kind man, and had with a single glance ascertained that his friend and fellow writer cut a rather poor figure next to the tall and handsome Immortal. Who never gave Mary Shelley a glance that wasn’t absolutely circumspect and respectful. And Mary Shelley never let her eyes or her conversation rest on the Doctor for more than a few moments.

After dinner the small group retired to Byron’s favourite terrace for brandy. It was summer, and the days were long and bright on Byron’s estate; he had a hunt planned for the morning, if Shelley could be tricked onto the back of a horse. How he’d fallen into such tepid and unadventurous company was a mystery for the ages. At least, Byron thought with a grin, Shelley could be counted on to join him in a victory drunk. As soon as Byron did the both of them a favour and got rid of Adams.

As Mary and Percy settled, Byron made a show of wandering toward Adams, who stood taking in the view from the colonnade. 'Do you enjoy my lands, my good Doctor?' he asked loudly.

Adams offered him a small bow. 'Your home is lovely. Your staff must be very good.'

'Bother that, who keeps track of the help?'

'Apparently not you.' Adams turned his gaze on Byron. There was a little daring there under the mantle of their social gentility, and seeing it there raised Byron’s hackles.

'Perhaps you’ll take a turn with me?' he inquired, a deliberate edge in his voice. 'I’ve a very fine fishing lake.'

After a long moment, Adams smiled. 'I should be glad to,' he answered with yet another slight bow of his torso. He rose and strode for the yard without looking back, taking Byron by surprise; he had to hurry awkwardly to catch up, the Shelleys forgotten, aware only that he’d been made to look ridiculous and fuming with it.

When they reached the tree line and the house was hidden from view, Adams dropped his efficient gait to a slow amble, then halted and turned to face Byron. He spread his hands peaceably at his side.

'You don’t want to Challenge me,' he said directly.

Byron came to an upright stop himself. 'But I think I do,' he retorted, drawing his sword. 'In fact, I’ve been looking forward to it.'

'You’re a little young to be so reckless. I would hate to have to teach you such a lesson.'

'You’re a little old to be so cocky,' Byron snapped.

Adams smiled a little. 'I didn’t get this way by losing,' he said flatly.

'Then it will be a shame to ruin your record. Draw your weapon.'

For a minute he truly thought Adams would refuse. Something infinitesimal changed in the man’s face, the only warning he got. He brought the tip of his sword up an inch just as Adams thrust aside the voluminous folds of his cloak and whipped a thick-bladed Roman sword from within it. He closed the distance between them with a light-footed leap, coming in low and fast. Byron jumped back, knocking the blade aside with a wide swing.

After that he could barely find an advantage to press. Adams was quicker than he was, and, Byron realised with a sinking feeling, far more experienced. His confusion quickly escalated to fury when he saw that Adams was enjoying himself, actually smirking.

'Oh, just finish it!' Byron heard himself yell.

Adams actually laughed. With a negligent flick of his wrist he deflected Byron’s next thrust, and grabbed a handful of Byron’s shirt. Byron found himself yanked forward, off-balance, to bodily collide with the taller man. Adams kissed him hard on the mouth, a stunning pressure that was over in a second. When Adams pushed him away, he fell on his arse and dropped his sword.

'I beg your pardon!' he managed furiously.

Adams grinned. 'You are a bit of an ass, aren’t you?' he asked, propping his sword in the grass and leaning on the pommel.

Byron glared up, fiercely humiliated. 'You never intended to fight me, did you?'

'Not really, no.'

'I would have taken your head!'

'You wouldn’t know what to do with it.' Adams gazed down at him with patent amusement. 'Oh, get up. No-one is dying today.'

He clambered to his feet gracelessly, grabbing his sword and waving it uncertainly. 'I thought—-'

'I’ve no idea what you thought, but I’m willing to wager you’re wrong.' Adams sheathed his sword, and waited pointedly until Byron did the same. 'Who was your teacher?'

He drew himself up. 'I’ve had no-one but myself.'

'Then it’s amazing you haven’t angered the wrong Immortal.' Adams considered him. 'Nothing for it,' he added. 'I’ll have to take you on, if you’re to see the end of the summer.'

'Who the hell do you think you—-'

'I think I’m a man who knew the rules of a Challenge and also knew that this is consecrated ground.'

Byron blinked. 'Consecrated?'

'It’s forbidden to take a head on holy ground,' Adams explained, pointing to a nearly grown-over gravesite not five yards from them. 'The first of many things I see I shall have to teach you.' Lines about his eyes deepened for a moment, then smoothed. 'It might even be entertaining.'

He turned to leave with that. Byron hurried after him. 'Wait,' he said. 'Are you really in love with Mary Shelley?' 

'What gave you that impression?' Adams answered, not even looking back as Byron caught him up.

'You’ve barely let her out of your sight,' he said sardonically. 'Have you been with her?'

'Has no-one ever told you that a gentleman must be discrete about his business, and most especially in regard of women?'

'I might have read it somewhere.'

'Can you read, then?' Adams affected surprise. 'It’s a start.'

'Wait!' He grabbed the man’s arm and swung him about. 'Now you listen here, I don’t need a teacher and I don’t need your insults—-'

Adams pulled him with a hand behind his neck. This time the kiss was deep. Byron leant into it, opening his mouth expectantly. He was not disappointed; Adams sucked on his tongue hard, caressing his head and backside boldly. Arousal was swift, and Byron was not a patient man. He tried to draw Adams to the ground, but was pushed away abruptly.

'First lesson,' Adams said, just barely out of breath. He twitched his clothing back into place with aplomb. 'You don’t do anything without my express invitation.'

'You expect me to obey that?' Byron demanded.

Adams smiled a little smug smile. 'No,' he said. 'But teaching shouldn’t be any less fun than learning.'


End file.
